


Dead man's chest

by ThunderCat



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-30
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-05-31 09:51:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 11,432
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19423552
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThunderCat/pseuds/ThunderCat
Summary: Some things are better left alone, but Hermione had never been able to resist a good challenge. Why start now?





	1. The Beginning

About 1000 years ago:

„I still have my doubts, that this is a wise idea, my friend. I know it was my idea in the first place, but maybe there is another way.“

Salazar sighed deeply while he looked at the dark-haired witch beside him. During their youth, Rowena had been one of the most beautiful women he ever laid eyes on. But the years hadn't been kind to her. Much like him, she had been fates victim whenever she found love and happiness. It was never for long.

Her hair, at one time sleek black and shiny, was dull and riddled with grey strands. The dark blue robes barely hid her much too thin figure and most of the time Salazar was hesitant to touch her out of fear she would break. Happiness had left her a long time ago, but it had been Helena's death that truly broke her. And now she was once again forced to bury a familiar face. He hated himself for forcing her hand, but they both knew there was no way around it.

„My dear, we both know that is only wishful thinking. We consulted every book, asked every bloody witch and wizard we thought could help and went form one end of the world to the other. I'm running out of time and I fear this is my only option.“ If there was another way he wouldn't be here, climbing into a coffin, like a man who carried a death wish. He would be on the hunt to find the bastard who cursed him.

„It's called a sarcophagus, Salazar.“

His head whipped around as he realised, that she'd used Legilimency on him and for a moment he was convinced he saw some of the old mirth in her eyes. But as soon as it appeared it vanished. Grumbling about his inability to stop her from roaming his mind, he climbed into the uncomfortable looking sarcophagus.

Well it wasn't as if he would notice any discomfort in a few minutes. At least he hoped so.

„You will be fine. When have I ever failed making a charm work? “

„Row!“ He whined.

„Stop reading my mind!“ This time she grinned; he was sure of it. „That's not funny!“

„I wasn't reading your mind, your face said it all. It's a wonder you are willing to climb into it at all, given your need for pompous luxury.“

„A man has needs!“ He mumbled while he leaned back.

„Sure,“ she snorted before she went serious again. „I'm so sorry Salazar. You don't deserve any of this and I wish...Merlin I wish I could save you. How can they call me the brightest which of our age, when I'm not even able to save the people nearest to my heart?“

„Row!“ He sighed. „You are not responsible for any of this, do you hear me? It's his fault and his alone. I know he suffered, but his sorrow has clouded his heart as well as his mind. He isn't the man we once knew.“

„I know, it just seems so bloody unfair!“

„I know.“ And with that he pushed himself back into a sitting position and hugged her gently. „Good-bye my dear friend, I'm sorry it has to end like this.“

„I hope someday someone will be able to success where I failed. Good-bye my friend.“ And with a last kiss to her cheek he leant back once more to watch the marvellous witch in front of him perform on last grand piece of magic. His last thought was that she was truly the brightest witch of her age before he slowly drifted into nothingness. 

* * *

May 1993:

Hermione wasn't the brightest witch of her age for nothing. Though looking at the basilisk through her mirror wasn't one of her better ideas. However, considering she had just been petrified she felt surprisingly good.

Was it normal that she could think in her momentary state? Shouldn't she just...well...be petrified? The basilisk turned her into stone, didn't it? Stone couldn't think, so why could she? Wrinkling her forehead into an angry frown, she combed through her mind for a logical solution but couldn't come up with anything.

If there was something Hermione hated, it was a question she could not answer. How she wished she could consult the library right now.

That was the moment something odd happened. Even more odd than being turned into stone by a Basilisk as big as a train, or being told you are a witch at your eleventh birthday.

One moment she was inside the infirmary and the next she was standing between two giant bookshelves. Bookshelves she had never seen before. (She later blamed her fascination for books for the fact that she allowed her mind to get side-tracked.)

Others might not be able to tell the difference, but she had spent most of her free time inside Hogwarts' library – even the restricted area with a little help from Harry's invisible clock – and Hermione would recognise the books before her, had she seen them before.

They were dusty, leather-bound, fragile-looking and obviously old. Her fingers were downright itching to touch them and without thinking she reached out to inspect a particular interesting looking tomb. Though it wasn't her hand which grasped right though the leather-bound volume, but a golden shimmering wing.

With a silent cry, she jumped back. A silly move she realised a moment later as 1. the wing was attached to her body thus followed her movement, 2. her hasty movement made her loose her balance and 3. she was forced to realise that her wing wasn't the only thing without solid form at the moment as her body crashed right through the book-shelve behind her.

Horrified Hermione looked down at herself. At least the part that wasn't hidden by the shelf. Hurriedly she crawled back and sighed with relief as she noticed her legs were still attached to her body and seemed perfectly fine. That was if shiny, insubstantial legs could be considered fine.

Oh, Merlin, she was a ghost! The Basilik hadn't petrified her – it killed her!

But wait, before the panic she felt inside her stomach managed to overwhelm her, her rational mind interfered. She couldn't be a ghost.

She'd met ghosts and none of them possessed the sparkling golden aura she radiated at the moment, let alone wings. Uneasily she looked at her right arm, or what used to be her right arm anyway. Magnificent feathered wings could be found in its place. Hesitantly she tried to move them and was surprised how easily they obeyed her command.

After a little bit of experimenting she was standing on her feet again. Obviously, her wings weren't just there for decoration, they worked perfectly fine and could be used for flying. Something she wasn't overly eager to test out, so she tried to hold them very still at her side.

Her mind was flipping over with thoughts, but the rational and logical traits that had formed her character from a very young age on actually helped her to tune down her fear and use her brain.

_Don't panic Hermione. Use your brain! What was the last things you remember?_

She had used a mirror to confirm her suspicion concerning the creature, who lived in the chamber of secrets. Unfortunately, she had not only been right but knocked herself out in doing so. The Basilisk stare had turned her to stone but that was a temporary condition, right? As soon as Professor Sprout was able to harvest the Mandragora, Professor Snape would brew the Mandrake Restoriative Draught and everything would be fine. Yes well, at least that was what she had been telling herself when she came up with her plan.

Obviously, something went wrong. Very wrong.

Her eyes went back to the ancient looking books in front of her. If she wanted to fix this problem, she should probably get to the bottom of it first. And what better way was there to answer her questions than to consult the right book? Somehow, she had a feeling that this room held the answer to many questions.

Awed stuck she allowed her eyes to roam the place. She could make out five massive bookshelves with rare looking tombs and a beautiful desk of the same wood with rune-like pattern craved into it, on one side of the room. The other side was dominated by a small but well-equipped potions lap, though she wasn't sure if anyone wanted to use the ingredients which were carefully stored along the back wall. The racks contained all sorts of chests, ampullae, glasses and boxes. Who knew how much time had passed since anybody set a foot side this room? From the layers of dust, it had to be quite a while.

How did she get here? Who owned this room? And most important of all, what happened to her?

Once again she reminded herself to keep it cool, after all she was convinced that there was a solution for every problem. This time though, she wasn't exactly sure how to name her problem, which made it so much harder to solve it.

She'd just decided to step over to the desk and search it more thoroughly, when she felt something tugging on her chest. It was an odd feeling as if a hand had gripped her shirt and pulled her. Stumbling she moved forward, but the feeling didn't stop. Far from it, it seemed to get more intense and suddenly she was knocked off her feet. But she didn't fall like before, she simply hung in the air.

At least for a few precious seconds before the next pull ripped her across the room and through the wall. The last thought that went through her head before everything went black was, that she hated flying. In every form.

* * *

February 1995:

Who would have thought, that she was the one-person Victor Krum would miss the most in the world? Certainly, not her. Hermione felt flattered and frightened at the same time. For the first time in her life a boy, a man really, took notice of her as a girl. Something her heart had yearned for, for quite some time now. So of course, she didn't hesitate to play a part in the second task of the Triwizard Tournament. Dumbledore had assured them that it was perfectly safe.

She did not feel safe.

That was the first thing that shot through head when she saw herself floating in the lake, tied to the ground by algae and surrounded by rather aggressive looking merpeople. She, that was the body in front of her, looked cold and helpless.

Merlin, she wished she could be somewhere safe.

As if a higher power had heard her silent plea she drifted away. For a moment, she was overwhelmed by a feeling of dejá-vu, but as quickly as it appeared it was gone and with it her surroundings.

When her vision cleared again, she was standing in an unfamiliar room. It was small, dusty and would have been quite unspectacular hadn't it been for the giant sarcophagus in the middle of the room. Not a gold encrusted, jewel engaged one like the ones Egyptian Pharaohs used as their resting place. The one in front of her was made from a dark, nearly black, stone as far as Hermione could see and the only thing that stuck out, beside the fact that there was a real freaking sarcophagus in front of her, was that it did not possess a lid.

Odd. Somehow, she was sure the stone tomb was not empty. How she knew it she couldn't say, she just did. Hesitantly she stepped nearer, floated until she was hovering over the sarcophagus. Had it not been for the man inside, she sure as hell would have freaked out over the fact that she was floating in mid-air, due to a pair of impressive looking gold shimmering wings she suddenly possessed.

But as is was, she was too occupied with starring at the stranger to really pay attention to her own person. Hands down, he was the most handsome man Hermione had ever laid eyes on. Had she been corporal she was sure she would be drooling.

Even laying completely silent he appeared tall and striking. The sort of person who captured the attention of everyone as soon as he stepped into a room. His elegant and form-fitting green wizard robs looked outdated but did little to hide his well-trained body.

His hair was sleek, dark and neatly bound behind his neck which gave her a perfect view of his face. He had olive coloured skin and a well-trimmed goatee, which bestowed him with a rakish look that made her think of the wizards that decorated the covers of the corny romance novels Lavender was so fond of.

But what really captured her attention, were the ancient runes that were tattooed onto his forehead from one temple to the other. The few she could identify were powerful runes of protection but most of them she had never seen before.

For a while she just _hung_ there and starred at him before she noticed that the sarcophagus indeed had a lid, it just wasn't what she'd expected. Maybe that was the reason it had slipped her attention at first.

_Right the hunk of a man inside had nothing to do with her lack of vigilance._

Instead of a stone made lid, like she expected, she could make out a magical barrier. Once again it was something she had never seen before. The magic seemed downright alive, floating in calm waves over the resting body. There were runes too, which were somehow inter-weaved in the stream of magic and Hermione was overcome by the intense urge to touch it.

Tentatively she reached for the barrier, but just inches before her fingers made contact with the shimmering magic beneath her something powerful pulled backwards.

And with a silent cry she was jerked away from the sarcophagus, away from the room and finally away from every conscious thought as everything went black.

* * *

June 2001:

She should not have touched the object so carelessly, but who would have thought a simple touch could have that effect? Considering her history and her current job, she probably should expect the worst and hope for the best. Well, she would keep it in mind for the next occasion, as she doubted it would be her last magical accident. Since she had been told that she was a witch at the gentle age of eleven there had not been a year without odd, phenomenal, terrifying and shell-shocking events.

Tough the well protected chest, whose protective spells sent her flying through the room, was pretty impressive, it was not the artefact that had her eyes wide with shock and fascination. It was what happened when her head hit the wall and knocked her out for a moment.

For a second, just a fleeting moment really, a part of her left her mortal body. She had no idea how to describe the short experience. The best term she could come up with was that her spirit left her body for a moment. She was able to see her corporal-self lying on the ground, her winged spiritual form hovering protectively above. But what really shocked her was the sense of deja-vu before she was overwhelmed by memories.

At first, she couldn't decide what to make of the confusing pictures. She remembered wings, a stone sarcophagus, books and a man who was much too attractive to forget him that easily. And then all of the sudden everything was clear and she was back in her body.

“Holy Merlin, are you okay Granger?” Blaise Zabini her partner in the Department of Mysteries worriedly searched her head for possible injuries and Hermione winced, when his fingers made contact with the big bump on its backside. Ignoring the dizziness as well as the pain she looked him in the eye.

“What do you know about spiritual journeys?”

“You hit your head pretty hard, hu?”

TBC


	2. PART ONE: THE SARCOPHAGUS

February 2002:

“You know I think I owe you an apology, Granger.”

„What for?” She asked, sensing a wicked grin forming on his lips, though she didn't go through the trouble of turning her head to confirm it. Looking at him would mean lifting her gaze from the stony sarcophagus across the room and Hermione feared it could disappear if she did that.

“For a while I really thought you lost it. The barrier between genius and insanity is pretty slim you know.”

As always he sounded nonchalant, bored even but over the last four years Hermione had gotten to know him pretty well and she knew he had been worried and still wasn't thrilled about her obsession to find this man. She had spent nearly all of her off-time and vacations on the hunt for clues. Hermione could not fault him that he started to doubt her sanity.

Their friendship had started at Hogwarts, when they both returned to repeat their last year. They had been two out of only nine people who decided to decline the free pass (Five N.E.W.T's with extra easy questions and exercise, to make sure even the most stupid of them would pass, were as good as a free pass in Hermione's mind) the Ministry's offered their year. All of them had shared a special common room with attached sleeping quarters, so it was no wonder they got to know each other pretty well. It had been a rocky start given that they were all from different houses, backgrounds and most importantly different rolls during the war. But with time they had formed a special friendship, some more than others but till this day they tried to keep in contact with each other.

Her close friendship with the Italian wizard had come as a surprise but they had quickly discovered that they shared a lot of interests and made a productive team. First as students and nowadays as Unspeakables.

After her spiritual awakening, for a lack of better terms, a few month ago she started with an intense research. She read old texts, searched the internet and spoke to people from any culture that believed in things like spirits, afterlife and the sorts. At the same time she tried, with Minerva's permission, to find the man she had seen lying inside the sarcophagus.

She had found both. Her answer to her spiritual journey as well as the stranger. Although the former had been far easier.

But now after month of searching, she finally found him. At least she hoped it was him, as she wasn't near enough to see his face, but how many hidden sarcophagi could be found between Hogwarts stony walls?

She felt excited and a tiny bit nauseous. After all this time, she would be able to look at him again. Would he be really as breath-taking as he had been from what she remembered from her fourth school year?

Slowly she stepped forward.

* * *

Two hours later Hermione knew two things. Yes, the stranger was as bloody handsome as she remembered and he was not waking up whatever she tried.

“Maybe you should kiss him, you know like in that fairy tale.” Blaise suggested.

“Oh certainly, I'm sure the magical barrier will be able to sense my intentions and let me through.” She snorted before she added with an amused grin. “Since when are you familiar with Muggle fairy tales?”

“Since you infiltrated the Slytherin lines and brought those children books to Purcy's house. Alastor and Allie can't hear them often enough and force me to read them every time I visit.”

Chuckling Hermione's eyes searched the room for the hundreds time to find some clue how to vanish the magical shield that served as a lid on the stony tomb, while she imagined her partner with a giant, cheery coloured fairy tale book surrounded by eager listening children. “They have you wrapped around their little fingers, and you love-” abruptly her words came to a halt as she noticed something on the sarcophagus that had escaped her notice till now. “Of course. How stupid of me not to realise the resemblance.” Now that that she thought about it, it was quite obvious. It wasn't by chance that the stranger rested in a sarcophagus. There had to be more to it. Although the walls were not adorned by paintings and the room not filled with immense treasures, she should have notice the resemblance to a typical Egyptian entombment. And she remembered something different. An old magical curse which she found inside an ancient book she had found in Muggle London during her research.

“Did you know that Egyptians believed in different aspects of the soul?” She asked while she stroked her finger over the engraved lines at the end of the sarcophagus.

The black stone that formed it, which turned out to be granite, appeared to be one block. Hermione wasn't sure if it was even possible, without the help of magic to find a solid chunk of granite big enough to form a sarcophagus out of it.

But maybe things weren't as they seemed.

Before Blaise could answer she continued. “There is the _Ib_ , which is considered the heart. It holds emotions and thoughts. It's the _Ib_ that decides what happens to you after death, when your deeds are weighted on the scales of Anubis.” Hermione explained and touched the small craving that symbolized the Ib.

“Then there is _Sheut_ the shaddow. The _Sheut_ is the essence of a person and cannot exist without the person nor the person without the shadow. The third part is the _Ren_ , which is considered the true name of a person. It is given at birth. Much like a true wizards name.”

“A secret name than?”

“Yes and no. Egyptian believed that names held power. To tell another person your true name would give them power over you, but they also believed that they only lived as long as their name was remembered. That is why many Pharaohs went through great trouble to make sure their names would be remembered.” Hermione could practical hear the frown in his voice as he knelt beside her.

“But if they feared the power someone would get over them why would they tell everyone?”

Shrugging she stared at the last two symbols. “I'm not quite sure. Maybe they feared being forgotten so much that they would take the risk. Or maybe they possess a true name and a common name?” Hesitantly her finger retraced the fine lines of the stork symbol. “This one is the _Ba_. It is believed to mirror the unique personality traits of a person. It's portrayed as a bird because Egyptians believed the _Ba_ would unite with the _Ka_ , the fifths aspect of the soul, after a person’s death. The _Ka_ is thought of as the life force, which leaves the body once he dies.”

Blaise did not comment, but he wasn't one to talk when he had nothing serious to say.

When she read the book, Hermione was reminded of old myths and legends. Egyptians, even the Muggle ones, were known to have a great understanding for magic. Was it possible that the roots of the curse, the one she found in a muggle book, could indeed be found in the wizard world?

The curse was a form of punishment, which would take all aspects of the soul form a person and force him into a never-ending sleep between the worlds. Aware of your surroundings but caught in a body which would no longer obey your command.

Hesitantly she bit her bottom lip. A curse like that would not be spoken lightly. What did the man do to deserve something like that?

Obviously, Blaise had come to the same conclusion as herself, after she told him her thoughts.

“Maybe there is a good reason he is in there. Some things should better be left alone.”

She was inclined to agree with him, if her eyes hadn't focused on the magical lid again. Though she still couldn't decipher most of them, the ones she did recognize where for protection and peaceful thoughts. That did not add up to what I knew about the curse.

“But the runes above him. They are of protection. They are meant to protect him not his surroundings. And look at the way the magic floats around him, I've never seen something like that before, but it nearly appears as if it is caressing him.”

For a long time both of them remained silent, but Hermione's mind was flipping over, trying to compare the information she learned form books and oral tales with the things she saw in front of her. A flash of intuition let her flick her wand against the engraved symbols. “Finite!”

With a silent gasp, she watched as a hidden place inside the sarcophagus appeared before their eyes. It wasn't big and left barley enough room to contain the wooden chest. It was a wonderful piece of work. Dark mahogany wood showed artful cravings and an elegant looking crossbar. Without hesitation, she pulled it out, ignoring Blaise's frustrated protest as he tried to remind her what happened the last time when she touched something without checking it first. There were no spells that prevented her from touching it, no curses that backfired at her when she opened the lid and no vicious traps.

“Do you know what that is?” Blaise was getting itchy; Hermione could feel it. The dark-haired wizard didn't like to be in the dark and it tended to make him uncomfortable. Much like herself.

“They are called canopic jars.” Hermione explained while she took one of the four ivory vase-like jars out of the chest to examine it further. “Usually they contain stomach, lungs, liver and the intestines of the mummified person, but in this case, I think they treasure something different,” she mused while her finger stroked over the stork like craving in front of the canopy.

“But there are only four canopies. If you think that they contain his soul, shouldn't there be five of them?” Carefully Blaise examined each jar. “The one with the name is missing.”

“I think not.” With a triumphant grin, she closed the wooden lid again and there just like she thought she could identify hieroglyphs. “It's a cartouche. This,” she tipped against the lines and pictures. “This is his true name.”

“I only see lines, snakes and birds. Are you even able to translate that?”

“Are you a wizard or what?”

“You know that it isn't possible to translate runes, the way you translate a foreign language in your own. It will not work.”

Hmm. He had a point. For a moment her knew found vigour left her, but than a thought popped into her mind. “Maybe it isn't necessary to speak it out loud.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, his name is part of his soul. At least if we want to believe the Egyptians and if I am correct someone separated all five parts of his soul, so he will need it back to be complete. Not the words but the actual name.”

It was clear that Blaise couldn't follow her thoughts and Hermione wasn't sure how to explain them better. The best would be if she showed him.

“So, you open the jars, let his soul out and hope that he will wake up, that's it?”

Yes. Maybe. Hopefully. She shrugged and stepped towards the head of the sarcophagus. Thoughtfully she looked at the handsome man, who followed her into her dreams and would not let her rest. Maybe Blaise was right and it would be best to leave and forget she ever found him, but she knew that she would never able to let it rest. And Blaise knew it too. Which was the sole reason he was here with her in the first place. Hermione had told no one beside her partner and Headmistress McGonagall about him, and although they both believed her they weren't happy about the determination she displayed during her search.

Like a bloodhound she could not stop once she actually licked blood.

Gathering more information about their findings and discuss her plans about opening the jars with one or two people would be the best action for now. It would be the sensible thing to do, but Hermione wasn't patient enough to be sensible for once.

So, she would open the jars.

* * *

Stuck between awe and frustration Hermione looked at the shimmering parts of the man's soul, which were hovering above the sarcophagus. _Ba_ and _Ka_ had united and it was indeed a gold shimmering bird that flew its rounds around the room. Every once in a while, it tried to join with his mortal body and swoop down into the sarcophagus. But every time it touched the magical shield it would bounce back. The cloud-like darkness that represented the _Sheut_ , the pulsing golden ball of the _Ib_ and the gently moving hieroglyphs that represented his _Ren_ didn't fare much better.

She had to find a way to vanish the blasted lid.

“I've never come across a shield like this. Maybe you should ask the ginger werewolf to help you with is. As much as I hate to admit it, he's known as a skilled curse breaker.”

Again, Blaise was probably right, but she wasn't willing to give up just yet. Frustrated she trusted her palms against the rim of the sarcophagus.

“Damn it!” She hissed as blood tickled down her hand. Somehow, she managed to nick her finger on the only sharp spot on the blasted thing.

With a quick flick of her wrist she attempted to put the bleeding spot into her mouth, but before her finger touched her lips several things happened. A few drops of blood found their way into the swirling shield and as if someone had pulled the plug the magic started to swirl quicker and quicker till it ended in a furious twirl.

Blaise screamed warning came too late and Hermione doubted that there'd even be a chance to escape the inevitable.

With unbelievable force the magical tornado hit her in the middle of her chest and catapulted her back across the room. The last thing she noticed before her world turned dark was the gold shimmering _Ba_ that swooped down into the sarcophagus. This time without anything to keep him from its rightful place.

TBC


	3. PART TWO: THE CURE

Four months later:

Nervously biting her bottom lip, Hermione starred at the man lying in front of her. She was anxious enough to overlook the drool worthy side of a bare-chested Salazar Slytherin. Though he was a pain in the ass to talk to he wasn't exactly hard on the eyes. It was not the first time her thoughts revolved around the attractive male in front of her, but it was certainly the most unsuitable time.

„Are...are you sure?”

“Honestly? No, not one bit but what choice do I have?” He answered her bad tempered but made no move to jump from the table. “Besides, wasn't it your grant idea to begin with?”

It was, but that didn't stop her from being worried sick. Her plan was nothing more than a desperate last attempt to rescue him and sooth her bad conscience. Without her he would still rest inside the sarcophagus, which sheltered him from that terrible curse she had not known about, when she opened the lid.

* * *

Like Harry and Ron, Hermione Granger was not unfamiliar with waking up inside the school infirmary. Thanks to her many adventures as a child she had no problem to recognise her environment as soon as she opened her eyes. She regretted it at once. Her head felt as if a hole army of dwarfs were digging for gold inside it. Groaning softly, she closed her eyes again and tried to focus on something else. Loud voices from somewhere on the floor attracted her attention, which didn't help with her headache at all.

“What do you mean, you have no idea what I'm talking about?” An unfamiliar male yelled with barely suppressed anger. He had a strange way of speaking mixed with a foreign accent that she couldn't quite assign. “What other reason could that girl possible have to wake me up if not to lift the curse?”

_Curse?_

Curiously she tried to sit up and was instantly overwhelmed by dizziness. She recognised Minerva’s voice, but couldn't understand her answer as the hammering in her head made it difficult to focus on anything else. Groaning she leant back and closed her eyes once again. It took her a while, but finally the dizziness faded and the pain in her head reduced to a tolerable level.

“...sorry.”

“Sorry?” The man yelled in obvious disbelieve. “She signed my death sentence and all you have to say, is that you are sorry?”

_Was he talking about her?_

“As we said before, Hermione had no idea about your...condition. She would never have opened the lid if she had known the consequences.” Blaise was the one who answered this time and he sounded more than a little bit miffed. “Besides a little warning would have been nice!”

“Watch your tone boy!” The stranger snapped with venom in his voice. “The place was heavily guarded, we made sure of that. How could she possibly locate the chamber, tame the basilisk or open the sarcophagus and not know about my condition?”

_Basilisk? Was he talking about the same basilik that petrified her during her second year? And what did he mean when he spoke about his condition?_

“The witch must have found Row's notes and decided to forfeit the warnings. So, she's either stupid or had every intention to see me suffer. And given that she was able to pass all the security measures and open the sarcophagus I tend towards the latter! She must-”

“Enough!” Minerva’s icy voice would have put even the most troublesome student in its place. “Miss Granger is one of the most compassionate and selfless people I know, not to forget the most brilliant witch that left this school in the last 600 years I will not allow you to speak of her in such a manner! Do I make myself clear?!”

The silence that followed made her think that the stranger left at first but apparently, he was just speechless. However, not for long.

“Do you have any idea who I am, madam?”

“I certainly know who you impersonate to be!”

“Impersonate?” He sounded downright affronted. “I am Salazar Slytherin!”

Hermione was suddenly overcome with the urge to faint once again. What had she done?

* * *

“Well yes,” she admitted. “But I still think the risks are -”

“I know the risks girl!”

Hermione gritted her teeth. She hated it when he would call her girl or missy. It always made her feel like a misbehaving child. What made it worse was that he looked barely older than herself. Salazar had been only thirty-eight years old when Rowena Ravenclaw put him into his death sleep, but that didn't stop him from acting as if he was ten times her senior. Admittedly he was born over a thousand years ago but that didn't count in Hermione’s books, given that he slept through most of it.

“Fine!” Hermione spat and started with the last necessary preparations. She could not help her fingers from trembling lightly as she did though. Not that she hadn't checked everything over and over again, read through her notes and repeated all the facts in her head like a broken record. None the less, her plan was dangerous. Insane even but it appeared to be their only chance to break the curse he was under.

Salazar Slytherin had to die.

* * *

“What do you mean, I have to die? Didn't you listen to a word I told you? I will die sooner or later because of the curse. You should find a way to stop that from happening not quicken the process!” Salazar yelled at her before she had a chance to explain her plan to him.

Of course, he did. Yelling seemed to be his favourite past-time, when he wasn't given her the silent treatment. The man had a fool temper and changed his moods quicker than Draco bloody Malfoy, which was a task of its own.

Up to a certain point she could comprehend his frustration. This curse was killing him, but that was no excuse for the way he had been treating her. As if she was the one who cursed him! The arrogant prick! She had apologized, as soon as she realised what she had done, but he'd simply given her the evil eye and left.

It had taken her some time to get him to tell her about the curse. Hell, it had taken her effort and time to get him to speak to her at all!

She felt bad about waking him up and unknowingly robbing him of his protection. Somehow, she felt responsible for finding a cure. But if Rowena Ravenclaw could not come up with a solution how could she even think she had a chance in doing so?

Salazar certainly did not hesitate to proclaim his doubts. Loudly. At every opportunity! But desperation finally wore him down besides, he wasn't willing to let more people know about his condition as absolutely necessary, which left him without many options.

Even than he wasn't very forthcoming with information, at least not about the circumstances of getting cursed or by whom. All he would give her was the curse itself and a list of Rowena's attempts at breaking it. It was a long list and did not exactly encourage her but like a dog with a bone she wasn't willing to give up. The more he doubted her the more determined she got.

The curse itself was ancient. Egyptian. Salazar was sure about that without giving her an explanation how he knew. Given his slight accent which only surfaced when he was really worked up and his slightly exotic appearance Hermione had a good guess about the source of his knowledge.

The problem with curses as old as this one was their simplicity as well as the obligatory sacrifice the speaker was willing to give. Whoever placed the curse upon Salazar must have been holding quite a grudge against him, if he was willing to pay the price for a curse as serve as that.

Hermione shuddered as she remembered Salazar’s words.

_The curse is quite clever. It turned my magic into a weapon against me. Like a vampire who relays on blood the curse will suck the life out of me every time I use magic. Not only does it leave me helpless and useless as a muggle but kills me slowly and painfully because other than muggles a witch and wizard's basic structure is formed out of magic. You see, even if I do nothing it will kill me._

Trying to prove that she had not been called the greatest witch of her age for nothing she came up with a variety of ideas; Spells, charms, potions and rituals. Nothing seemed to help. So, in the end Hermione reached the conclusion that the curse could only be broken if it fulfilled its goal: Salazar Slytherin had to die.

* * *

“Would you quit whining for a moment and listen to me?” Hermione snapped irritated. Couldn't he for once act like the even tempered, intelligent wizard history proclaimed him to be? For all his biased feelings towards blood purity and forbidden magic he was supposed to be level-headed with a quick and cunning mind. Stubbornness and a hot temper were usually Gryffindor traits. Although she seemed the only one who got that kind of reaction out of him.

At first she had thought it was because of her blood. That he didn't deem her worthy to speak to with a civil tongue, but he had no such issues when he talked to other muggle-borns. Maybe he was still simply holding a grudge against her because she woke him up. Not that they had ever really spoken about the whole incident. Every time she tried to move their discussion (screaming-match was more like it) in this particular direction he glared at her and changed the topic.

“Whining?” Salazar’s dark eyes seemed to darken a bit more at her words. “Slytherins don't whine, girl! But if we would I would have a damn good reason to do so!”

It took everything in her not to roll her eyes at him. For someone who declared whining beneath him he was quite good at it. Biting the inside of her cheek, she forced herself to count till ten before she opened her mouth again. It would help no one if they started another fight.

“The intention of your curse was to kill you, right?”

“Of course-”

“To turn your magic against you was just a perverse way to make it more cruel, am I right?” She interrupted him but didn't let him answer. “But in the end the goal of whoever put that curse on you was to end your life?!”

His eyes had turned into slits and for a moment Hermione feared that he would yell at her again, but then the stormy expression on his face calmed and he simply nodded. “Yes, he wanted to kill me, but not without torturing me first and what better way is there as turning my most prized possession against me?”

_He?_ So, it was a wizard who cursed him. Somehow, she always suspected a woman behind all this. The fact that it was the work of a wizard made her even more curious. Men were usually quite plain in their attempts to hurt someone and used money or physical strength to reach their goal. In that aspect Muggle men and wizard were very much alike.

So, either Salazar’s enemy was the exception to that rule or the grudge he had against the wizard in front of her was so deep that the usual methods weren't enough.

Her curiosity was killing her, but she doubted that he would tell her anything, so she simply nodded and continued.

“And you agree with me when I say that we - you tried everything to break the cures without success. Even your runes,” she looked at the protective runes that were tattooed over his face and blushed slightly when she remembered that his chest and arms were also inked. “aren't very effective these days.”

The runes on his body resembled the ones she'd found on the magic lid of the sarcophagus. She'd never come across such powerful runes and she was not the only one interested in them, but Salazar was as tight lipped about them as about anything else.

„Is there an actual reason why you deem it necessary to remind me of how hopeless my situation is, or do you enjoy agonizing me?” He asked dryly.

_Ignore him! Don't hex him! Simply ignore him!_

“If everything we tried is effect-less than there is only one way to break the curse. To full fill it!”

“What?!” The colour of his face was rapidly changing as if he couldn't decide whether to faint or get angry with her.

“If you die the curse will be broken, so we simply have to kill you!” Hermione knew she was mean, but she could not help herself but goat him a bit. He had no qualms making her life as miserable as possible, so she felt not overly guilty as she waited a few minutes longer than necessary before she added. “Of course, you won't stay dead. Muggle medicine is very advanced these days and there are ways and means to bring you back.”

He had nothing to say to that.

* * *

Controlling the urge to ask him again if he wanted to go through with their plan, Hermione finished the needed preparations. She would feel more comfortable if Salazar had allowed a Muggle doctor or at least a nurse to oversee the process but he had flat-out refused. Obviously, he would rather die than allow a muggle to treat him, biased arrogant ass that he was. And as if that wasn't enough, he had shunt everyone but her from their experiment as well.

Hermione was convinced he did that so he could blame and haunt her should things go wrong. Even now he used every opportunity to remind her that it was her imprudent act of opening the sarcophagus that put him in this situation, so it was her responsibility to find a solution.

_Yeah, no pressure. Thank you very much!_

Taking a deep breath, she turned towards Salazar and offered him the oxygen mask.

“O-okay, please lay back and try to breath slow and steady.” Her voice was barely more than a whisper as she put a tourniquet around his upper arm. She could feel his penetrating stare and it wasn't helping to calm down her nervousness one bit. But it would be useless to point that out to him, so she simply grasps the syringe with the harmless looking yellow fluid in it. She applied the narcotic slowly and loosened the tourniquet a bit just like the books had advised it. It didn't take long before the drug unfolded its effect.

Taking a deep breath Hermione told herself that she could do it, for the hundredths time and prepared him for the next shot. This time the fluid had a distinct reddish colour, like the blood she aspirated into the syringe before she pushed it back into the vain. Together with the deadly toxin. With only a slight shaking of her fingers she grasped for the defibrillator before her eyes darted to the heart monitor.

It didn't take long before the heart line turned flat.

TBC


	4. PART THREE: THE SEDUCTION

_Five month later:_

Salazar Slytherin was many things; intelligent, cunning, powerful and a man who was used in getting what he wanted. He had the money and power to accomplishing whatever he'd set his mind on and the thing he wanted the most, was Hermione Granger.

Mind, body, heart and soul.

It wasn't that he woke up one morning and found himself in love with the little witch, no. He was not even overly fond of her, but the longer he knew her, the longer he witnessed how unbelievable intelligent and powerful she was, the more fascinated he became. Maybe even a little obsessed.

She was everything he ever wished for in a witch and more. There was a reason he had never married the first time he was around. He just never found a witch that could reach his standard, but now he had and he had every intention to made her his.

His less than gentlemanly behaviour towards her in the beginning unfortunately made her a bit unreasonable towards his affections, so he had to be a bit more creative and seduce her. It should have come easy to him. The seduction. But the truth was, he never had to trouble himself with seducing a witch. They flocked to him like moths to the flame. The only witch who never gave him a second glance, romantically speaking, had been Row. Which was completely understandable, given that they practical grew up together and loved each other like siblings.

He missed her terribly and wished that she was here. She would have known how to win Miss Granger over. Of course, she would have given him an earful about his earlier behaviour towards the witch, but still she would have been a great help.

Salazar was sure she would have prevented him from making a fool out of himself. For though he had taken every measure to impress the witch and make her take notice of him had failed. Dramatically.

Over the last few months he had bestowed her with diamonds, perfumes and rare flowers only for her to send them back to him, together with a polite note in which she thanked him but reminded him that it was unnecessary. Unnecessary? What witch found diamonds to be unnecessary?

He was fairly certain that she found him attractive, but she never acted on it. Regardless how much he tried to use that knowledge in his favour, she always found a way to keep her distance. Usually with an annoyed look in her eyes. It was frustrating, to say it mildly.

He needed a new plan. 

* * *

“Ungrateful, stubborn little witch!” Salazar muttered while he stormed inside his private study, the green robes fluttering dramatically behind him.

“I see your grand scheme, to make her jealous didn't turn out like you expected?” A snobbish voice to his left taunted him and Salazar could practical hear the unsaid _like I told you from the beginning_. With a huff, he settled into the comfortable chair behind his desk and looked up to the painting. Phineas Black was trying, albeit not very hard, to hide his smug grin.

“There is something seriously wrong with that girl!” He muttered.

“Because she isn't kissing the hem of your robes, in gratitude, because you are paying her attention?”

Salazar snorted at the image. The chit was barley civil towards him. Regardless of what he did or said, she was regarding him with that glowering look.

“Yes! Other women would weep with joy, at the mere aspect of getting my undivided attention.” Regardless of how arrogant he was sounding, it was true. In his time, he had been known as an incredible powerful and rich wizard, which had been enough to raise the interest of a great many witches. His good looks hadn't hurt either.

The witches of this time were not much different from his. Greedy, power hungry and vain.

“Other witches would do a great many things, in hopes of getting entrance to your vaults or the title of Lady Slytherin.”

“Harpies, the lot of them!”

“Then the question remains, why you would treat Miss Granger as if she was one of those mindless, vapid harpies?”

The question made him halt in mid cursing the witch in question. Why indeed?

At first, he had treated her very badly. He had been so angry, as he realised that she had released him without knowledge of his condition. When Rowena put him into the sarcophagus, it never once crossed his mind that it could take centuries before he would be set free again. He just assumed, that his old friend would find a solution in time and rescue him, or at least share the secret of his condition with someone, who would work on it in her place. It really wasn't the witch’s fault, that she was unaware of the situation. How could she know, after all this time? Somewhere in the depth of his mind a nagging question pushed forward.

_How had she found him at all?_

Pushing the question aside, his thoughts turned towards other matters. He had acted like a spoiled child and vented his wrath on the little witch. In his defence, it could be said, that the prospect of dying an awful death clouded his mind and manners.

Regardless of his obnoxious behaviour, Hermione had never stopped in finding a cure for him. Part of her restless research might have been guilt, but he liked to believe that she genuine cared for him. At least some. A little bit.

Salazar would be lying if he said, that he thought she would be able to find a cure. But he also never thought, even in his wildest dreams, that the solution could be found in muggle technology. First killing him to trick the curse and finally bring himself back to life with that strange shocker thing. _Defibrillator._ Yes, that was the word. He shuddered at the memory; it was no experience he liked to repeat.

To interweave muggle and wizard resources to break the curse was quite a clever idea, but tricky as far as he could evaluate. Then again, the witch was highly intelligent and contained probably more power in her little finger, than most witches at all. Maybe her status as a muggleborn witch had something to do with that.

Rowena once mentioned a theory to him. According to her, most muggleborn children had a squib somewhere down their line, who was the source for their magic. But some, very few, were creations of sudden magical eruptions. Their magical spark, literally came from magic itself, hence the reason why those individuals were so powerful.

He always thought this theory highly absurd, but maybe he had to reconsider considering Hermione's magical ability. Although he hadn't realized it at the time, he now remembered, that blood was the only way to vanish the protection field, that had surrounded his sarcophagus. And not just any blood. It had to be powerful...very powerful. It should have needed more than one witch or wizard to free him.

He also heard and read stories about her. Even those who did not like her, grudgingly admired her intelligence and power. How someone like her ended up in Godrics house was a mystery to him.

“And what dare I ask should I do to win the witch over?” He asked with a sneer, which couldn't completely cover his desperate tone.

“Why, seduce her of course!” Phineas snapped as if it was obvious.

“What do you think, I was doing these last few months?” Salazar nearly exploded. The nerve of him!

“I have no idea, what you did,” Phineas replied in a bored tone. “But whatever it was, it obviously wasn't working in your favour!”

“I gave her diamonds, big enough to be mistaken for eggs, I bestowed flowers on her so rare and lovey that only a few will ever lay eyes on them, I gifted her with perfumes made of Sirens hair and-”

“And failed miserably to impress her with it,” Phineas interrupted him. “If you had taken the time, you might have noticed that this witch doesn't care much for those things.”

Grumbling inwardly, Salazar waited for the former headmaster to continue. “That girl loves books because they provide her with knowledge.” That was nothing knew to him, but from the way the words were spoken, Phineas obviously wanted to make a point. Raising an eyebrow, he waited for him to continue. “Well, from whom could she learn about old magic, runes and long forgotten spells better than you?! You Lord Slytherin are like a living breathing library. I doubt that any diamond, perfume or flower can keep up with that!”

Salazar could feel his back straiten as he sat up in his chair. The man had a point. Why hadn't he thought of that? Because witches make us wizards dense sometimes. Gritting his teeth, he tried to put himself together. The witch wanted knowledge and he could provide her with that.

That and so much more. 

* * *

_Many months later:_

Hermione was happily humming to herself as she put the beautiful diamond earring on. Those were one of the few gems she had accepted from Salazar. They were small, elegant and so unlike the rest of the overly huge and pompous jewellery he had tried to bestow on her. Modest, simply wasn't in his vocabulary, but he was learning.

Learning how to trick her into accepting his gifts.

Chuckling, she had to admit that her sneaky Slytherin, was extremely good at getting his way. Funnily enough she liked that about him. It kept her on her toes.

It was one of the things she cherished most about their relationship; it never got dull. They were both intelligent, witty and possessed a great longing for knowledge. Often enough they had different views on topics and their arguments could get pretty heated, but other as with Ron never childish. At the memory of her childhood sweetheart her smile faltered a bit. Ron was not speaking with her these days, as she was _fraternizing with the root of all evil_. Harry remained civil but not overly supportive. Since the end of the war, their lives had turned in different directions and their friendship had cooled down somewhat.

These days she had a very different circle of friends than in her Hogwarts years.

Who would have thought that the Queen of the Mudbloods would have more Slytherins friends than Gryffindors? Let alone date the Founder of Slytherin? Certainly, not her.

A grin appeared on her lips as she remembered, Salazar awkward attempts to woo her. He had been so horrible to her at first. Admittedly there was the curse, but at times she felt the desire to end his life herself, arrogant arse that he was. After she broke the curse things started to change, but not for the better as far as she was concerned. The slimy git didn't even thank her! Not one word of gratitude left his lips, as he opened his eyes that day and realised that she had freed him. Merlin, she had been angry enough to curse him again!

The enormous diamonds, rare flowers and expensive perfumes, he started to send her a few weeks later only spiked her anger. Every single item was delivered by owl or an elf, with nothing more than a card that had his name on it. Still no thank you! Hermione was convinced that he tried to sneak his way out of his life debt, with all those expensive baubles.

Every time they saw each other he was either ignoring her completely or gracing her with one of those haughty looks, before he would turn around to the flock of witches, who always seemed to surround him wherever he appeared.

Hermione was never sure what angered her more. His arrogance or the witches. Probably the latter, but she would never admit it. Not even now. She did not need to stroke his ego with her jealously, he was already smug enough without her help.

But then one day, things started to change. She hadn't seen him for a while, and he had stopped bribing her with expensive gifts. That was until she found a very old leather-bound book on her desk, together with a note. It was the first time he troubled himself to write her a few lines.

_Dear Miss Granger, I remember you asking me about my rune tattoos. This book provides some basic knowledge about the topic. Find me, if you still have questions. SS_

To say she was stunned would have been a great understatement, but it was an olive branch and Hermione had reached for it. Even if she had wanted to, her overwhelming thirst for knowledge wouldn't allow her to ignore it. He was Salazar Slytherin, Co-Founder of Hogwarts and a powerful wizard who was born over a thousand years ago! The man was practical a living, breathing library.

From that day on their relationship – allowedly _relationship_ was a big word at that point – started and grew over time. She did indeed seek him out after she finished the book. Of course, their first meeting ended as awful as one might expect. She actually hexed him.

But from there on, their relationship had taken a turn for the better. However, Hermione suspected, that his sudden willingness to provide her with knowledge was his form of thanking her. Not that she cared. Maybe Blaise and the other Slytherin she called friends, were finally rubbing off on her, but she found it totally acceptable to take what she wanted.

And that was Salazar Slytherin. Intellectually speaking of course. Not that she would have minded a more physical relationship with him, but she was realistic. There was no way in hell that feeling was mutual. At least that was what she thought at that time.

The crush she had harboured, ever since she had dreamed about him, aside he was the perfect male in her eyes. Intelligent (without a doubt), witty (with a dry morbid humour she found very amusing), passionate (about things that were important to him and surprisingly very loyal (specially when he talked about Rowena Ravenclaw). The final nail in the coffin was his private library. She had always thought the Malfoy library was a dream come to, but it paled in comparison to Salazars. It was smaller but with rarer and extinct volumes. Hermione was in heaven, when he allowed her excess.

Somewhere down the road, Hermione got the impression that he started to like her. The topics of their discussions changed and got more personal. She found herself telling him things about the war, that she normally didn't voice loud. About the difficult time at the run, her torture and how utterly disconnected she had felt to everyone around her after the war. In return he shared more and more details of his life with her. Funny stories, sad stories, trivial things and then one night, after much firewhiskey, he told her about his best friend; Godrick Gryffindor.

_“He was everything I was not. We were like fire and ice, but that made us so good together. We complemented each other. A few years after we finished building the school, Godric met a young muggleborn witch. Selena. He said it was love on first side, obviously she felt the same. They married and for a time they were really happy together, even more so when they discovered that she was expecting. I was asked to be the godfather and believe me I was proud to be chosen for that role. But fate had different plans. A jealous ex-lover of mine saw me walking Selene over the grounds of Hogwarts and mistook her to be the reason I ended things. She cursed Selene and unfortunately, I wasn't able to break the curse in time. Both, she and the babe died. Goddric was heartbroken and held me responsible for what happened.”_

_“He was the one who cursed you?”_

_„Yes, he thought I didn't deserve to find happiness if his was ripped away from him.”_

Hermione was shocked, even more so when she heard him mumble that Godric would probably turn in his grave, if he realised that it was his curse that lead him to her. She didn't understand what he meant at the time, but in retrospect she realized that she should have caught on a lot earlier. But never, not in her wildest dreams would she have thought that Salazar could be actually interested in her.

“What are you smiling about, precious?” Salazar's unexpected appearance made her jump slightly.

“Oh, I was just thinking about your awful to attempts seduce me, in the beginning.” She teased him and laughed lightly as she saw his miffed expression in the mirror.

“Awful? I've never been awful at anything!” He replied in a huffed tone, but Hermione could see the playful smile around his lips. “Besides I got the witch, didn't I?”

“Well it took you a while,” she answered sassily.

“Only unimportant things are easily acquired.” He whispered in her ear before he kissed her cheek. “Are you ready? You look lovely by the way.” That of course earned him a real kiss, which turned heated pretty quickly. With a sigh Hermione finally stepped back. “

We should stop, before we get distracted.” Again. He grinned but didn't object. The ceremony they wanted to attend was after all mostly for him.

Minevera was feeling tired and wanted to pass the title as headmistress. And who could fill that role better than one of the Founders himself? After a last look into the mirror, they left his – their quarters and headed towards the great hall.

* * *

Salazar Slytherin was a happy man. He got everything that he wanted; The role as headmaster, promising pupils in his house, a comfortable friendship with two of Hermione’s so called Slytherin friends and of course the witch herself.

He had taken Phineas advice to heart and changed his method of approaching the witch. She was probably the only woman he knew, who preferred smelly old books over diamonds, but her lack of vanity was simply another trait he cherished about her. That didn't stop him from gifting her with fancy baubles whenever the mood stuck him though he had to get creative in getting her to take them. He loved a good challenge and nobody could dish out a challenge like his lovely witch.

At first, he wanted her for her magical power alone. That he found her attractive was merely a bonus, but the better he got to know her the more attracted he found himself to her. She was intelligent, compassionate, quick witted and possessed a wicked sense of humour that complimented his own. Spending time with her was never dull, as it was with other witches.

Before he knew it, he was caught in the alluring net she had woven around herself. At first he had been appalled with the realisation that he developed such deep feelings for her. He remembered Helga, Godric and Rowena. They all had loved someone dearly and each and every one of them had ended with a broken heart. Salazar wasn't sure if he was willing to risk his but soon found out that it was not something he had a choice in.

_The heart wants, what the heart wants._ Rowena once told him and of course he had scoffed at her, but now he had to admit that she was right. Like always.

Salazar's thoughts turned towards the ancient wedding bracelets, that his mother had left him, which were currently resting inside his desk waiting to be worn again. Soon he thought. Very soon, he decided after a quick look at the smiling witch on his arm.

* * *

Neither Salazar nor Hermione noticed the raven which observed them from the window ledge, as they walked down the hallways. Had they looked, they might have noticed that its shadow wasn't that of a bird, but a woman. And had they troubled themselves with looking into the mirror, that hung on the opposite wall they would have seen the image of a smiling Rowena Ravenclaw looking back at them.

But witch and wizard were too occupied with each other to notice much around them.

“Be happy, my friend,” Rowena said but all that could be heard was the croaking of the bird before it jumped from the ledge and vanished into the night.

TBC


	5. EPILOGE

_About a thousand years ago:_

They all had left her. Helga due to childbirth, Godric through his insanity and Salazar...Rowena sighed. Twenty-one years had passed, since she had burrowed his body inside the sarcophagus, but she wasn't any closer to breaking the curse than she was all those years ago.

By now, she had accepted the fact that she wouldn't accomplishing the task, but she wasn't called the brightest witch of her time for nothing. If she couldn't do it herself, she would make sure that the person who could would not only have all the information necessary but also the needed motivation.

A grin hushed over her lips as she thought about Salazars reaction to her plan.

With skilled movements, she worked her charms into the door of the great hall. They would not only detect possible candidates with enough magical power to help Salazar but prove their hearts. The power to free him meant nothing, if they lacked compassion and strength. She also added the Isis spell she had found in one of Sal’s old books to it. It would guide the chosen person towards Salazar, like it once guided the goddess towards the parts of Osiris.

“She will come my friend,” Rowena mumbled. “It will take time, but one day she will find you and you will find happiness with her.” 

* * *

Over the centuries many students passed through the doors of Hogwarts. Rowena’s spell tested them all. But they either didn't possess the magical power, or the other attributes Rawenclaw’s founder deemed necessary to find her friend and free him from his curse.

So, time went on and Salazar remained forgotten inside the stony sarcophagus.

But than one warm late summer day, new students flooded through Hogwarts halls and Rowena’s magic found what it had been looking for after all.

A small witch, with bushy hair and excited eyes, passed through the stone door, full of hope and absolutely clueless about the adventures that awaited her.

Hermione Granger didn't know it yet, but a bright future was awaiting her.

***end***

***Finite incantatem***


End file.
